Faith
by kdzl
Summary: You never cared about God before, but now her faith is the only thing that will get you through this.  WARNING: Character Death.


**Author's Note: **_Don't ask me where this came from, because I honestly don't know. Originally part of this was written for a different fandom (NCIS:LA) but I tweaked it and...well...this is where it ended up. _

**Warning: Character Death**

_"What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life."_

_-Emil Brunner_

* * *

><p>When you were a child, you asked your mom if she believed in God.<p>

Two days later, you watched your father nearly beat her to death.

And that had been that.

Since that day, you never really wondered if there was anything out there. When your father died you were certain that if God was really there, he finally answered your prayers. So now, instead of wondering about the questions of the soul , you focus on each day as it comes. You promise yourself that no matter what, you will always give your son everything you have, and that outside of that, nothing else matters.

Because no matter what happens, Jack is your entire world.

And one day, part of you wonders if you will have time to get the answers you've been searching for.

You doubt that.

Sitting here, alone in the dark expanse of a basement with the charred smell of flesh wafting toward you, your soul can't help but cry out in the purest form of an honest plea.

_God help me. _

You don't know if that counts. Part of you wonders if there's something more you should offer, some formalistic ritual that you never learned. You hate that you don't know.

But it's the best you have, and if there really is a God, that's just going to have to do.

You've been relying on yourself for far longer than you can remember.

Yet, somehow believing in God has never seemed so important.

You shift and immediately wince as your sore ribs seem to cry out in protest, sending sharp waves of pain up your body.

This never should have happened.

You should have been better prepared.

"Hotch?" JJ moans and instantly you move back to her side.

"JJ." You sigh with relief, glad that she's finally starting to come around. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get out of here."

The beam sticking out of her stomach has you worried.

But if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that it was more than a little terrifying when you found yourself in a small pocket in what had formerly been the UnSub's home.

Then again, you never have been good at being honest with yourself.

Then you found JJ, and you weren't alone anymore. There was someone to focus on, someone to help.

And the panic that made your fingers tremble took a back seat as you searched for anything to help your colleague. Your friend.

JJ.

She woke up once before, screaming and in pain, and the only way you could calm her down was to promise you were still here. But you try not to think of that because you are fairly certain she can't move her body.

Which means the beam in her stomach is more than just a little annoyance.

"Hotch, what—" JJ licks her lips and you can sense the pain and fear (though you know she would never admit it) in her voice as she tries to focus on the blurry images in front of her, "what happened?"

"I don't know." You admit honestly, rubbing the back of your head as you try to piece together what must have happened. You've been trying to do that for the last half hour.

You wince as your fingers touch a sore area, pain radiating as your fingertips come back drenched in blood. "I think it was a bomb."

"A bomb?" JJ asks, hissing angrily as the pain starts to hit her.

You wonder if it will get much worse.

You are pretty sure it will.

"Stay still." You order with a hint of exasperation despite the fact you already know she can't move, a little more sharply than you intend. You wonder if she realizes.

If she knows.

It scares you more than you'd like to admit that you can't remember exactly what happened. Sighing, you look around, opting for another tactic. "Based on the beam," you gesture to the horrid item that is protruding from her skin, "I'd say it was high grade explosives. Since we're still here, we must have been shielded from the blast either by a wall or by distance."

"Bomb expert too?" She smiles wryly, though it comes out more like a grimace than anything else. She gasps as if the pain is finally hitting her in full force, quickly adding "Got anything else that might get us out of here?"

"I'm working on it." You assure her, and for a moment everything seems right, like just another day in the office. JJ's always been able to pull you out a little more than the others, and for just a second you could forget the carnage around you.

But the _beam_ in JJ's stomach reminds you, this is not just another day at the office.

"The others?" She asks as the grin fades from her face.

"I don't know." You admit, and you force down the utter desperation as your voice cracks. "I just don't know."

She sits in silence for a moment and you wonder if she's surprised that you don't have all the answers—that you aren't perfect.

You wish that right now you could be.

She coughs and doesn't seem to notice that she's coughed up blood. "Hotch," She seems to strain slightly against the beam, her voice weaker than you've ever heard it though she tries to stay strong, "How bad is it?"

You see just how much blood she's already lost and you know it isn't good. "You are going to be just fine JJ."

By the look in her eyes, she knows just as much as you do that it's a blatant lie, but she seems to accept it.

You talk at her, painfully aware of how much effort it takes her to talk. You talk about Jack, about your new little family that seems to take so much effort to keep together.

When her breathing hitches, you stop immediately. "JJ?" You feel the panic in your voice, but it doesn't matter as you focus on the woman in front of you. "JJ, what hurts?"

The question is ridiculous, you feel stupid right away. Because if she's anywhere close to being in as much pain as you are, it has to be unbearable.

She coughs, and your stomach sinks as you see more blood expelled between her lips.

_Where is the damn rescue team?_

You hear gurgling, and the chilling disgusting sound alerts you that something is going horribly wrong.

As if this wasn't bad enough.

You help her turn her head—it's as if she didn't realize she couldn't roll over—as she vomits thick stringy blood and somehow manages to clear her mouth.

It's killing you inside.

Watching.

Because you know what's happening, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

"Hotch?" There is more than a little fear in her voice, more than a little panic. "Hotch?"

"I'm right here JJ." The worry that rises inside of you at the thought that she can't see you beside her threatens to take over, but you push it down quickly. Worry won't help anyone.

You wipe away the blood from her mouth, hoping that it will help her breathe. Maybe it will give her just enough time.

"Please don't leave." She begs and you know that she knows. Her words are strained, and the pain behind her words almost kills you, but she forces more words out slowly. "I don't want to be alone."

You hate that there is nothing you can do to stop it.

You hate that this happened.

You hate a lot of things right now.

"I won't leave." You promise grabbing her hand in comfort, and in that moment, you know that there has never been anything you have been more honest about in your life.

Hours later, when Morgan's muffled voice comes through the rubble you feel your spirit sore.

It's only then you realize you are still clutching her hand.

Her cold, lifeless hand.

A pathway clears, light finally brightening the small prison that kept you and JJ trapped, and you see Morgan and Rossi pulling away the rubble with frantic hands. When they catch sight of the blood, the awful horrible blood, they both pause slightly before continuing with a little less exuberance.

"Hotch?" Morgan calls, and if you could see him past the tears coursing down your strong cheeks you would have noticed the pain etched on his own expression. "Hotch let's get you out of here."

"I'm not leaving without her." You declare stubbornly.

Because you promised.

You won't leave her.

They argue with you. They try to convince you that you need to get out of the way. You can hear the pain in their voices.

It isn't until they point out that there isn't enough room to get her out with you in it that you finally relent and finally step out of your prison.

You refuse to be treated, you refuse to move from just outside the small opening.

Because you promised you wouldn't leave her.

And you won't.

But one question weighs on you.

Where is God now?

* * *

><p>You almost smile as Morgan pulls up to the immaculately manicured farmhouse in rural Pennsylvania.<p>

You should have known she had grown up in a house like this.

You frown, wondering why she had to pick a case in Pittsburgh.

And then your thoughts turn to JJ. To how she looked the last time you saw her. Her blood. Her pain. Her anguish.

And you wonder, did it hurt to die?

Is she still in pain?

You hope not.

The team looks at you, waiting to see if you are going to take the lead. You already know.

For a moment, you hesitate, uncomfortable with the thought that you might be exacerbating JJ's parent's pain.

But you had to let them know.

You had to tell them how sorry you were.

Because she never should have been in that building. None of you should have.

Your fingers are trembling, but you stuff them inside your pockets lest any of your Agents notice as you push the door to the SUV open.

You are most definitely in shock.

But this had to be done first.

The team slowly exits the SUV, each of them wanting to be present to mourn the loss of their colleague, none of them wanting to be left behind.

Gratefully, you thank the fates that Garcia hadn't come with you. She would have made this all harder.

You overheard Morgan call her.

You know you can't face her yet.

You feel nervous, and a little terrified, as you step forward to ring the doorbell.

Will they hate you?

You frown as a woman that looks remarkably like JJ answers the door. "Can I help you?" She asks politely.

Yet, just like JJ, you feel like she already knows who you are. Why you are here.

Part of you wishes JJ's friends at the press could have already caught a whiff of the terrible tragedy that had taken her life. You know initial reports have covered the blast, the destruction of a building, the death of a government official.

The other part of you—the parent—knows how absolutely devastating it would be to find out about your child's death from the television.

And you can't do that to them.

Not after everything that's happened.

"Mrs. Jareau?" You query, more out of manners than actually needing to establish the woman's identity. "I'm Agent Hotchner with the FBI. Can we come in?" You ask, and the blank mask that meets you tells you that this moment is one that has haunted her nightmares for years.

Honestly, it's haunted you too.

With trembling fingers, she ushers you inside. "Let me—" She hesitates, somehow managing to stifle a small hitch in her voice, "Let me go call Allen, he's out in the yard."

The five of you—Prentiss, Morgan, Reid, Rossi, and yourself are left to stand awkwardly in the front room of what was JJ's childhood home. Pictures of three distinct children line the tables—one, JJ, seems to stick out with prominence. Her academy graduation photo is affixed to the wall beside one of a man in military uniform with a third of a young, happy sixteen year old girl.

JJ's mother comes back into the room, a tall strong balding man beside her.

"Mr. Jareau, I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI." You start again, "these are SSAs Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid—" You start the formalities, only to have the man cut you off.

"Jenny's team." He coughs, clearing his throat, and suddenly this is absolute torture. You don't know if you can do it.

JJ's parents, however, help you.

Knowing the woman they reared, you shouldn't be surprised.

"What happened?" Her father asks, gently guiding his wife to the couch where he sits beside her. He gestures for each of you to sit as well, and though you've never really done this before with an Agent under your command, you can't help but follow his command.

"There was a raid." Your voice catches involuntarily as tears stream down Mrs. Jareau's face unbridled. "We had no reason to suspect—"

JJ's mother gasps and Mr. Jareau waves for you to stop.

But just because the words have to be said, you push forward. "She didn't make it."

Hours later, a swarm of people flitter in and out of the Jareau home. You had tried to leave, tried to give their family privacy.

But you were surprised to have both her parents emphatically beg you to stay.

You didn't have the heart to leave.

And not surprisingly, the rest of the team stayed behind as well.

JJ's brother—Daniel—and his wife arrived some time ago, making arrangements and guiding the well-wishing neighbors toward the kitchen.

JJ's father cleared his voice, speaking for the first time in an hour. "You were there with her?" He asks you, choking slightly though there seems to be no other outward display of emotion. "At the end?"

You nod. For half a second, you wonder how he knew, until you remember the stitched gash at the back of your head and the bruise that must be forming along your cheek.

In all, you've had better days.

But then, so had JJ.

Tears pool in the man's eyes, and you can only imagine the torment he is going through. "Jenny never did like being alone."

Tears sting your own eyes, the events of today far too fresh to be able to simply bury underneath a gruff exterior.

"Tell us about her." Prentiss requests, and the plea sounds a little odd given that you've spent nearly every day with her for years. "When she was younger, what was she like?"

But the truth is, you are desperate to learn more too.

Because JJ's brief impact has changed your life. Changed the world.

And you hope her parents know that.

Her father seems utterly overcome, unable to speak and surprisingly—or not so surprisingly as you think about it—JJ's mother smiles easily, wiping the tears from her face as she gestured to some of the pictures on the mantle.

"JJ, she—" Mrs. Jareau beams softly with pride. "She was always getting into trouble."

"We used to tease her that if ever something went wrong, she was generally the one pulling the strings." Daniel speaks up, coming into the room to sit with the rest of you, his wife trailing not so far behind.

"The Puppeteer." Mr. Jareau chokes out in a pained sob. "That was her nickname."

This is so much harder than you ever thought it could be, and you wonder how Gideon was ever able to come back. He lost six agents. You lost JJ.

Suddenly the guilt is more than you can take. You may not have planted the bomb, but you were the one who gave the order.

JJ's blood is still on your hands.

"I'm so sorry." The words fall out of your mouth. You don't bother to add the words everyone else has murmured to the parents _'for your loss'_, because they weren't the only ones who lost JJ.

You did.

As if you exposed your emotions clearly, laying them bare, the Jareaus pick up on your torment. And suddenly, the tables have turned.

You are no longer the one offering comfort.

It seems surreal, in a way, to have JJ's mother look at you with a soft empathy you've only seen one person exude before. "She's in a better place." She assures.

You hear Prentiss cough back a snort and see Morgan shift uncomfortably. You know your team has issues with religion. Honestly, you do too. But the Jareaus don't seem to mind.

JJ's father now too is leaning forward, his eyes still misty but his conviction sure. "You all may have your beliefs, but our family—Jenny included—knew that our family and our existence went way past this life."

That comforts you a little, though you aren't sure why. Knowing that JJ was religious, that she believed in something, it makes it a little easier for you to believe that she's in heaven.

Not that she'd deserve to be anywhere else.

"This is part of God's plan." Daniel agreed, clasping his wife's hand tightly for reassurance. "I'm going to miss her, but—"

"Who is God?" You blurt, you can't stop the words from coming out of your mouth.

Because really, every question in your soul boils down to the one you just asked. How could God let this happen? How could he do this to you? To JJ?

And it seems almost cruel, that you are asking this family for answers, pleading with them to give you some form of peace.

You hope they won't disappoint.

They don't.

Every Jareau turns to their father. It seems not that the rest of them don't know, but that they are handing over the opportunity to him. "You've heard the scripture God is Love?" He queried.

You feel yourself nod, uncomfortable about whether you've gotten yourself into too deep of a conversation.

After all, they are still grieving.

But so are you.

"God _is_ love, but he is more than that. He is the father of our spirits, a being that loves us more than we can even comprehend. God is _perfect _love. Perfect understanding. Perfect wisdom." He explained, his own voice growing stronger. "And if he decided that he needed Jenny with him, then…we are all just going to have to look forward to when we can see her again."

"And you really believe that?" You hear Reid ask next to you. It surprises you that the genius is searching for similar answers.

As you look at the interested faces of your colleagues, you realize that maybe you all are looking for answers.

"We do." Mrs. Jareau speaks up now, tears streaming down her face anew. "That doesn't mean this isn't hard, but…" She trails off and glances up at her husband, holding his hand tightly.

You have no doubt that the parents are distraught. No doubt that their world has just been altered.

But their quiet conviction makes you a little jealous.

"Jenny died doing what she loved." Daniel speaks up, surprising you more than you thought it would. "She was helping people."

Because it's true.

For some reason, you just assumed that no families understood the drive that pushes all of you to work with the Bureau, to find serial killers.

"Do you remember that time you tried to out-shoot her with the bee-bee gun?" Daniel's wife—Hannah—nudges him slightly, teasing.

He groans, a smirk forming on his own face. "I tripped and accidently shot through the kitchen window. She never let me live that down."

Mrs. Jareau's face falls, "That was why I never liked you kids playing with guns. You could have hurt somebody!" You can see she's probably scolded her children until she was blue in the face.

Though it likely made little difference.

You, after all, did know JJ.

"You just never liked that Jenny was better at boy-stuff than you were." Mr. Jareau chuckled. "She was a better son than you were. Better daughter too."

Daniel laughed, and suddenly you realize that this is the way JJ would want it.

She wouldn't want you morosely sharing sad stories with gaunt appearances.

She would want to be remembered.

And you make one final promise, a prayer you hope will reach JJ's ears.

You will always remember her.

* * *

><p>Days later you find yourself slightly astounded by the large gathering of people. The church is overflowing with people, it was as if the entire community came out to say goodbye.<p>

You feel a small swell of pride and awe at the vast amount of lives JJ has touched.

JJ's parents sit toward the front of the church, her brother and his large family beside them. You've been asked to say a few words and you've never been more terrified.

JJ's father speaks about her love, her kindness, weaving it in with scriptures you have never heard before.

JJ's brother talks about her belief, her unwavering faith despite her undying love for coffee and the occasional beer. It strikes you interesting that these count as flaws, because you had never thought about it like that before, but her brother isn't critical as he continues to recount childhood stories. You feel the love he had for his sister, the endearing qualities that made her imperfect, yet defined who she was.

JJ's mother gets up and for some reason you had expected her to break down, to shed the tears you wish you could.

She doesn't.

Instead, she talks about faith. She talks about eternity, about families and that love transcends everything.

And now it's your turn.

Slowly, you stand and walk to the podium, feeling everyone's eyes turn toward you.

This is a far more spiritual affair than you had anticipated.

And honestly, you weren't ready for that.

You clear your throat. "Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity." The words surprise you as they come out of your mouth because this is not exactly how you had planned to share your thoughts about JJ. Yet as the words come, they feel right.

And you can't help but wonder if even beyond the grave JJ is helping you with your final speech as if it was simply another press conference.

You speak, and it is surprising how easy it is. You speak of JJ, of how she was everything that the FBI exemplifies. You speak of her honesty, her compassion.

And then, your voice catches as you speak of her bravery.

"I was with her in her last moments." You confess, and suddenly your mouth is dry and your palms are sweating. "I watched as her life slipped away," Your voice hitches but it doesn't matter. This is for JJ. "Until the end of her life, she was the bravest person I knew." The statement causes your heart to surge, because even now you can't believe it really happened.

Suddenly, you realize you've been silent for nearly ten seconds—an eternity in public speaking. You imagine JJ giving you a sharp jab to the ribs, the way she would whenever you were at the podium and the press conference wasn't going well.

"She will be sorely missed." You acknowledge, softly understating how absolutely devastated you are.

You float as if in a dream toward the cemetery. Any other day, you might be awe-struck at the massive amount of people lining the way toward JJ's final resting place.

Today, however, you don't even notice.

JJ's family asked you and the others to assist as pallbearers. You see far more able-bodied men who gladly would have taken the honor.

But standing behind JJ's brother as you lift the casket with a flag draped over it, gently guiding it out of the carriage that had brought her to the cemetery, you know that this couldn't happen any other way.

You are beside JJ the entire time, assisting in every way until you place the casket over the grave.

More words are spoken.

Now the official ceremony begins, something you have experienced before but will never get used to. JJ died in the line of duty and she is being given full honors.

She deserves it.

A prayer is offered and you quickly follow the others example as you bow your head and close your eyes. Words pass quickly, maybe it is that you aren't really paying attention anymore, but the only words you really hear is when JJ's brother pleads for JJ's resting place to be hallowed until she comes forward in the Resurrection.

You feel you soul leap with agreement, JJ's final resting place should be holy.

Though really, you aren't even sure what that means.

But it feels right, and right now that is all that matters.

The murmur of Amens alerts you that this is it. This is the end.

The large silent crowd that had followed all of you to the gravesite dissipates slightly, leaving only you, the team, and JJ's immediate family.

Your heart lurches, pained at the thought that it is finally time to leave.

You promised her she wouldn't be alone.

They lower her body down into the ground and now it's official.

She's gone.

* * *

><p>Many years later, you find yourself slipping away on the uncomfortable sheets of the nursing home. It is only then you realize that you were not alone.<p>

She's standing there, and somehow—though others have passed since her—you knew she would be the one to greet you.

You are relieved that the Jareau's were right, that this wasn't the end.

It's calming to you, as the pain and agedness fade and your spirit seems to grow stronger.

"I never left." You murmur, looking up at the woman who in four short years changed your destiny. "I never forgot you."

Her death taught you more than she did when she was alive.

You learned to stop.

You learned that you weren't indestructible.

You decided to put your child first, realizing that if anything snatched you away from Jack, it wouldn't matter the countless lives you saved.

Because Jack meant more to _you_ than anything else.

You tried to be the father you imagined God was, her parents' words sticking with you through the rest of your life.

You aren't sure if you did it right, if you figured it all out.

But in the end, you don't have any regrets.

JJ smiles at you, extending her hand as she lifts you out of the body that has deteriorated around you. "Come on Hotch, I've got something to show you."

In the end, it is far better than you ever could have imagined.

Thank God.

* * *

><p><em>"...I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith."<em>

_-Ether 12:6_


End file.
